Maroon
by Miss Beltful
Summary: A short little one-parter that might make you laugh. It's Christmas at Hogwarts, and, as expected, Ron receives his annual maroon sweater. Is that all? Revolves around Ron. Merry Christmas!


Title: Maroon  
  
Author: Azn A.  
  
Email: thebeltfulone@yahoo.com  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Hey, all, I haven't posted in awhile. -.- No time... History is  
  
taking all of mine. But I'll try and work on something over break, hmm?  
  
Anyway, this is a small one-parter set in the Harry Potter world in  
  
any book during Christmas. Ron-lovers, please take no offense, I love  
  
the little redhead myself. He just fits so well!  
  
Hope you like it. Enjoy, and happy holidays!  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. But since Rowling killed off  
  
Sirius, you think I could keep him? *hopeful face*  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Checkmate!" Ron cried in triumph as he commanded his rook forward   
  
three spaces, cornering the enemy king.  
  
"No!" Harry said. "That--I didn't even see that coming!"  
  
Ron grinned. "I figured you'd be watching my bishop instead, but that  
  
was only a diversion tactic."  
  
Harry groaned. "How'd you know? Blasted bishop," he said forlornly,  
  
staring at the animated chess pieces, while the bishop stuck its tongue  
  
out at him.   
  
"I'm good, I'm good," Ron said in a sing-song voice.  
  
Hermione looked up from her book. "Are you guys finally done?"  
  
"Yes," Harry said miserably. "He beat me. Again."  
  
"What is that, six times?" Hermione yawned. "Anyway, we better be  
  
getting up to bed. It's late, and it's Christmas tomorrow. We'll   
  
probably be the last ones up in the morning."  
  
"Oh, go on then, Hermione," Ron said, carefully putting away his   
  
wizard chess pieces, who were celebrating joyously for another  
  
victory. "Don't mind us, we'll be going to bed soon."  
  
"All right then," she replied. "Good night, you two."  
  
"Good night," the two boys chorused as she went up to the girls'  
  
dormitory, carrying a very sleepy and rather cranky Crookshanks  
  
with her.   
  
Harry stifled a yawn. "We'd better be heading up too," he said. "I  
  
don't want to sleep through the Christmas feast."  
  
Ron laughed. "Could you sleep that late? Anyway, I need to pack up   
  
the rest of my stuff," he said, indicating his schoolbooks, quills,  
  
and other things that were carelessly strewn on the ground.  
  
"That's what you get for throwing your bag in the air when the last  
  
class is let out for Christmas holidays," Harry smirked. "Want some  
  
help?"   
  
"Nah," Ron said, gathering some (now crumpled) rolls of parchment.  
  
"I can handle it, thanks."  
  
"OK, then, g'night." Harry called over his shoulder, going up the  
  
stairs.  
  
"G'night," Ron replied distractedly, getting his things together.  
  
He was finding his stuff in all sorts of odd places, like his  
  
Potions book near the fireplace (he was quite tempted to just chuck  
  
the book in) and his wand caught in a couch pillow.  
  
As he was nearly done, he glanced at his watch. 'Two-oh-five already?'  
  
he thought in slight surprise. 'I should go to sleep.' But just then,  
  
he happened to unearth a broken bottle of ink under a cushion. "Argh,"  
  
he said under his breath. Not only was his ink wasted, but the cushion  
  
was stained too. He quickly threw away the remaining shards of the   
  
bottle, then looked at the cushion. He furrowed his brow, trying to   
  
remember any sort of spell that could clean--he wasn't about to get  
  
his hands maroon because of something that wasn't-entirely-sort-of-  
  
maybe-just-a-tad-bit his fault. He wished more than ever now that his  
  
mother hadn't gotten maroon ink. Who'd ever heard of maroon ink   
  
anyway? Black, blue, red, even green were more appropriate colors for  
  
school, he thought, not (he made a face) maroon. Anyway, a house-elf  
  
would probably clean it up, right? He winced at the thought of what  
  
Hermione would do if she would find out that he had left a mess in   
  
the common room for an elf to take care of. He sighed, then continued  
  
racking his brain for some sort of spell that would help. He found  
  
that his head was starting to hurt. 'Must be the ink fumes,' he  
  
thought, massaging his forehead with his knuckles.  
  
"Aha!" he burst out all of a sudden, remembering a charm he learned  
  
a month ago. He took out his wand from his now neatly-packed bag, and  
  
cried, "Bubblilious!"  
  
A pretty stream of bubbles were emitted from his wand. He directed them  
  
to the cushion. A few bubbles sort of stuck to the fabric, but others  
  
just popped with a loud sound. He lowered his wand, thinking it looked  
  
about the right amount to remove the stain. He rummaged through his  
  
bag, finding an old rag he used for Potions (it used to be a maroon  
  
shirt), then proceeded to rub the stain vigorously, which only succeeded  
  
in getting his hands maroon, his rag back to its original color, the  
  
cushion a rather strange, soapy, pink sort of look, and his head even  
  
more painful, taking in the ink smell. 'Ugh,' he thought, looking   
  
at his hands and breathing in a whiff of ink. 'Dammit, I should've  
  
let Harry help me!' He blinked his eyes, suddenly feeling rather  
  
drowsy. 'Stupid ink... Gets my hands maroon, my head hurting, and me  
  
feeling...' He struggled to keep his heavy eyes open. '...drunk...' He  
  
fell asleep.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Oi! Ron! Wake up!"  
  
"I thought you two were going to go to bed!"  
  
"I did, but he stayed back to clean up his stuff... Ron, wake up!"  
  
Ron opened his eyes slowly. "Wha's happening?" he asked sleepily,   
  
as Harry's and Hermione's faces came into focus. Both were carrying  
  
some parcels in their arms and wearing their bathrobes.  
  
"You fell asleep in the common room," Hermione said. "What were you  
  
doing? You couldn't possibly have been so sleepy to have not been   
  
able to drag yourself up the stairs!"  
  
Ron squinted, his eyes adjusting to the light. "I... I don't remember,  
  
it's all fuzzy... I think I spilled some ink, and then I guess the   
  
smell of it knocked me out..."  
  
"I don't see any ink," Harry said, looking around him. "Well, forget  
  
about it anyway, we've got presents!"  
  
"Oh, right! It's Christmas! I forgot! Happy Christmas, guys," he   
  
siad, sort of sheepishly.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Ron," Harry said.  
  
"Happy Christmas to the both of you," Hermione said. "Come on now,  
  
get up off the floor, you're crushing your packages!"  
  
"What?" He quickly stood up, seeing that she was right; he had been  
  
sleeping on some of his packages, which were now looked rather squished.  
  
"I suppose since you weren't in your bed, your presents were delivered  
  
nearest to you," Hermione said.  
  
"Yeah, I'm used to getting my presents at the foot of my bed," Ron   
  
said, picked up a squashed box.  
  
"How are the presents delivered anyway?" Harry wondered.  
  
"Search me," Ron shrugged, tearing at the wrapping. "I just take 'em."  
  
"House-elves deliver them," Hermione said rather huffily. "I don't see  
  
why we can't just hand eachother our gifts or send them by owl."  
  
"Ah, but the owls aren't paid either, eh?" Ron said, grinning. "Oh no--  
  
darn it, why can't she give me another color for once?" He held up a  
  
new knitted maroon sweater from his mother. "And--I don't believe it--  
  
maroon socks and a scarf!" He shook his head. "I asked for a new scarf,  
  
my Hogwarts one is unraveling... Maroon... She must've had too much  
  
maroon this time... Can't I have a new color?"  
  
"I think it's nice," Hermione said honestly, fingering the scarf. "It's  
  
quite soft; must be very warm to wear."  
  
"I suppose," Ron said unhappily. "I hate maroon..."  
  
Harry opened his pack. "Whew," he said, holding up his sweater and a  
  
new pair of socks. "Mine are OK."  
  
Ron stared at the blue sweater and white socks. "Now see, why can't I   
  
have a sweater like that? Why can't I have normal socks? Hey, Harry,"   
  
he suddenly said, "you want to trade?"  
  
"Er--"  
  
"Yeah, I thought not," he said gloomily. "S'okay, I didn't expect you to.  
  
Oh well, still have other presents!" He tore into the package from  
  
Hermione, stopped, and stared.  
  
"You like it?" Hermione asked brightly.  
  
He continued to stare wordlessly.   
  
Harry glanced over at the contents of the box, then paused.  
  
"Hermione?" Ron finally croaked. "What is this?"  
  
"It's a Muggle style hat," she explained. "This is a cap Muggles use  
  
for one of their sports, baseball. It's sort of like what the Beaters  
  
and Chasers do in a Quidditch match, put together. I made it myself.  
  
Do you like it?" she asked again.  
  
Ron stared in wonder at the freshly unwrapped maroon baseball cap in  
  
his lap, with the words "I LOVE MAROON" on it. "Hermione!" he finally  
  
said. "You know I hate maroon!"  
  
"I know, but I also know you're sort of interested in Muggle things  
  
too," she said. "I thought you might like it."  
  
"But 'I LOVE MAROON'?" he asked.  
  
"Well," she shrugged, "it was either that or "I LOVE VICTOR KRUM,"   
  
but I didn't think you'd like that."  
  
"Could've just left it without words," he muttered, inspecting the cap  
  
for other possible embarrassing things--say, pink bunnies.   
  
"Oh, but then it would have looked so plain," she said. "Well... I   
  
s'pose I could've just put S.P.E.W. on it instead..."  
  
"Even spew is better than that, Hermione," Harry said, cautiously  
  
unwrapping his gift.  
  
"S-P-E-W!" she said hotly.   
  
"Same difference," Ron said, watching Harry open his, revealing a green  
  
cap similar to his, except adorning the words "I LOVE QUIDDITCH" instead.  
  
"What?!" Ron exclaimed in fury. "Why couldn't I have gotten one like  
  
that?!"  
  
"The first thing I think of when I think of you is usually maroon. The  
  
first thing I think of when I think of Harry is usually You-Know-Who,  
  
but I doubted he should wear a cap that said 'I LOVE YOU-KNOW-WHO.'  
  
Not a great image. Well, go on, put them on, both of you!" she  
  
said eagerly. "See if they fit!"  
  
Harry fitted his onto his head, while Ron stared, flabbergasted, at   
  
Hermione. "You're kidding, right? You can't expect me to put this--this  
  
thing on!"  
  
"And whyever not?" she asked, holding the new book she had received   
  
from Harry.  
  
"Would you wear a hat that said 'I LOVE DRACO MALFOY'?"  
  
"Of course not," she replied matter-of-factly.  
  
"Exactly!" Ron burst. "I love maroon as much as I love Draco Malfoy!"  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well then..."   
  
"Oh, shut up," Ron snapped, grabbing another gift. "I bet Harry's is  
  
ten times better than yours." He opened the box, noticing Harry had  
  
a small smile on his face, as if trying to keep from laughing outloud.  
  
"What?" he asked him.   
  
"Nothing."  
  
He peered suspiciously at him, then looked down into his lap.   
  
He twitched.  
  
"What the hell?!"  
  
Harry and Hermione burst out into laughter. "What, you don't like it?"  
  
Harry asked.  
  
"You're joking!" Ron said angrily. "You're sick, Harry, what sort of gift  
  
is this?!" He held up a maroon t-shirt, with a large, conspicuous 'M'  
  
on the front, and the words "Maroon Man" on the back. "This isn't a present,   
  
this is crap!!!" It reminded him of a sort of Muggle cartoon superhero  
  
he had heard of before, Superman, or something.  
  
"Wait, wait, there's more!" Hermione said, giggling.   
  
Ron was almost afraid to look into the box, but he did anyway.  
  
And regretted it.  
  
"A CAPE?!" he sputtered. "What sort of joke are you playing, Harry?!   
  
I'M NOT GOING TO WEAR THIS!"  
  
"I think it would suit you fine, Ron!"  
  
"Could give me something useful, or better, like something Chudley  
  
Cannons--but this?!"  
  
"Oh, come on, Ron, it's just for fun," Harry laughed. "Here, here's   
  
something better, if you want." He handed him another box.  
  
"Good!" Ron said, taking the box from him. "Good to know you actually  
  
got me something... Hey, isn't this a shoebox?"  
  
"Open it!"  
  
He lifted the lid.  
  
"ARRGGHH!!!"  
  
The other two doubled into laughter again as Ron dumped out a pair of  
  
childish rubber maroon boots that each had an "M" on it, matching his  
  
shirt. "That's it! I've had it! You guys have serious problems! I'm  
  
going!"  
  
"Oh, come on, don't leave!" Hermione said.  
  
"You still have Hagrid's present!" Harry said, in hopes to try and ease  
  
his friend's anger.  
  
"Yeah, he doesn't even know you don't like maroon! He wouldn't make   
  
fun of you!"   
  
"What, and you guys would? Oh wait, I forgot--you already did," Ron  
  
grumbled, throwing his boots in the general direction of Harry, who  
  
dodged. Ron reached for his last parcel, opening it.   
  
His head drooped.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked. "Did he cook you something?"  
  
"Give you a Skrewt?" Harry asked. They both looked over their friend's  
  
shoulder, then promptly burst out laughing.  
  
"That is IT!" Ron threw the box across the room, which very narrowly  
  
missed Crookshanks, who hissed. Out fell a pair of dragon skin gloves,  
  
which really wouldn't have been so bad if they weren't maroon.  
  
"I didn't even know there were maroon dragons," said Hermione.  
  
"Yeah, well I have it even worse than them! Look at me! If I put on  
  
everything that you all have given me, I'd be in all maroon! I'd just  
  
be missing some pants!"  
  
"Well, here you go then," Fred said, as he and George entered the common  
  
room, throwing a pair of maroon pants to Ron. "Happy Christmas, mate."  
  
"ARRRRRGGGGGHH!!!"  
  
"Oh, put on your sweater and socks!" George said. "They're great; Mum  
  
must have gotten new material for knitting! They're very soft! And you'll  
  
match all over!"  
  
"Yeah, just what I need, more maroon," Ron said darkly.  
  
"If you want, we'll get you a hat from Mum also," said Fred.  
  
"Yeah, with little muffler ears!" added George.  
  
"I already made him one!" Hermione said, holding up her gift for him.  
  
Fred and George snickered. "Good one, Hermione," Fred said.  
  
"What's going on?" Ginny asked as she walked in.  
  
"Ron is maroon-high," George informed her. Ginny laughed as she caught  
  
sight of the maroon articles of clothing surrounding her brother.  
  
"Yeah, sure, make even more fun of me," Ron said miserably. "I'm   
  
getting dressed." He headed for his dorm.  
  
"Don't forget your lovely gifts, Ron!" George called as he, Fred, and  
  
Harry threw the various maroon things at him.  
  
"Shut up!" Ron said as the Maroon Man shirt hit him in the face.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Ron, carefully dressed in not an inch of maroon, thundered towards  
  
the Great Hall with Harry and Hermione at his side, still in a grouchy  
  
mood.  
  
"Oh, c'mon now, Ron, you aren't still upset?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Of course I'm upset!" Ron said. "You guys gave me the most useless gifts  
  
ever! How could I possibly not be upset?"  
  
"Ron, buck up! Don't worry, we promised you next time we visit Hogsmeade,  
  
we'll buy you fifteen Galleons worth of sweets at Honeydukes!"  
  
Ron grumbled a reply.  
  
"We got rid of your maroon stuff already," Harry said. "It's all gone now."  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Where is it then?"  
  
They both shrugged. "We don't know, Fred and George took it all."  
  
"WHAT?!" Ron hissed. "You idiots, you let them take the stuff?! Can you   
  
think of what they'd do with it?!"  
  
His friends hesitated, then Hermione said, "They won't do anything, they're your   
  
brothers!"  
  
"Hermione, think about what you just said," Ron remarked.  
  
She shook her head as they approached the Great Hall. "Oh, I'm sure they didn't   
  
do--"  
  
They walked through the double doors of the Great Hall.  
  
"--anything..."   
  
They met a scene of taunting laughter, people pointing, jeers from the crowd of   
  
Hogwarts students, but worst of all...  
  
Suspended magically in the air were all of Ron's Christmas gifts, from the "I   
  
LOVE MAROON" baseball cap down to the Maroon Man shirt. But that wasn't it.   
  
In the middle of the scene of maroon was a picture of Ron.  
  
Colored maroon.  
  
Ron looked at the scene before him. He twitched.  
  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Ron woke with a start, finding himself clammy, breathing heavily.  
  
'Bloody hell, what was that?!' He shook himself free of the pillows he  
  
was buried in, then noticed his hands were maroon. 'What happened...?   
  
Oh, dammit,' he thought, noticing the pillow that still had minor traces   
  
of maroon. 'Stupid ink.'  
  
"Ron!"   
  
He turned at the sound of his name. Harry and Hermione bounded down the  
  
stairs, carrying packages and parcels.  
  
"Blimey, what happened?!" Harry asked.  
  
"I don't know... I found my ink spilled all over a cushion and I tried to  
  
clean it up... Then the stupid ink fumes must've knocked me out... Then..."  
  
The memories of his dream flashed through his mind. "I must've had a dream."  
  
"What sort of dream?" Hermione inquired.   
  
"Aww, nothing," Ron said, not wanting to remember any of the unpleasant details.   
  
"So anyway," he said brightly, "those for me?" he asked, referring to the presents  
  
they were holding.  
  
"Oh, right," Harry said, dumping everything in Ron's lap. "Merry Christmas, Ron."  
  
"Happy Christmas indeed." Ron smiled, unwrapping his first gift. But as he untied  
  
the ribbon and tore into the wrapping, he had a sense of foreboding...   
  
He looked at his gift, his smile plastered on his face.  
  
A Maroon Man shirt stared back at him.  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
^_^ Merry Christmas.  
  
~Azn A. 


End file.
